Our Lives
by Crazyperson8
Summary: This is the sequel to Coming Home.
1. Protect

JOHN

"Is he okay?" Lestrade asks

"He will be alright but he does have a broken rib and plenty of bruises." My voice, sounds sharp with anger at the prick that kinapped Sherlock.

The yard, Mycroft, and I had be searching for the missing detective for thirteen hours before, I found him, in an abandoned factory. Two men had just been released from prison after serving twelve years. Apparently, Sherlock was the one to prove they had been part of a human trafficking gang and they had went out for blood.

Mycroft and his men had arrived shortly after, while I was checking Sherlock over. He had been unconscious, so it was easier than normal to "mother him" as Sherlock calls it. Mycroft face was emotionless but the raised eyebrow gave away his surprise, to me getting here first. I still feel a little insulted. I'm no genius but neither were the kidnappers and I was a soldier. I know how to put piece together. Also, being friends with Sherlock for so long has taught me a thing or two.

"The two men are pretty rough up." Lestrade is giving me a knowing glance.

"Really?" I say, trying to keep the satisfaction out of my tone.

No one gets away with harming Sherlock. I remember the first time I stood up for him.

Flashback (secondary school/ second meeting)

I was walking down the hall to the lab hopping to meet Sherlock there. It was only yesterday that I had met the genius but i felt drawn to the boy. I then heard a loud thud coming from the bathroom. My curiosity got the better of me. There were three boys, all in my year standing by the far wall. The middle boy was pinning someone to the wall.

"What do you want broken next? Your middle finger or your thumb?" The boy to the left asked. My stomach had twisted at the question.

"Boring" was the reply. It sounded honest, as if what was happening was no big deal. That voice had sounded familiar, though I couldn't place it.

"Hey, leave him alone." I had tried to imitate my dad's military voice.

The boys had turned around giving me a view of the younger boy.

It was Sherlock. His nose was bleeding and had a cut on one cheek and from the sound of it at least one finger was broken.

"Mine your own business Watson." The third boy had said unconcerned.

Sherlock was looking at me as if he expected me to just leave and do nothing.

"Leave him alone."

"Why don't you make us?" The boy that had held Sherlock against a wall challenged.

"Fine, I will."


	2. Protect part 2

The boy that had held Sherlock against the wall came at me first. He aimed a punch towards my face. I quickly dogged out of the way and landed a kick to his stomach. He went down hard. Then the other two boys decided to gain up on me. I had felt adrenaline rush through my body and smiled. I was able to hold my own till one of the boys managed to land a kick to my right side, sending me to the ground. One boy then ran over and pinned me down while the other boy stood over me with a smirk on his face.

"You really should have minded your own business." The smirking boy had said.

He was about to start the beating when suddenly he went flying and hit the bathroom wall.

"Did you forget about me?" Sherlock smirked

"You are going to pay for that." The other boys said.

Before, he could make a move Sherlock kicked his feet from underneath him. Sherlock then quickly placed his foot on the other boy's throat.

"I suggest you leave now." Sherlock once again sounded bored.

He removed his foot. He boy ran out of the bathroom. The two other boys seem to then gather their wits and quickly followed.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine, shouldn't I be the one asking you that?" I was still felling high from the adrenaline.

"I'm fine, I can reset my fingers myself."

"Oh no, you are going to the nurse."

Sherlock had looked at me strangely.

"Very well."

"Can I ask you something?" My curiosity was getting the better of me.

"You just did."

"If you can fight so well why didn't you before?"

"I was bored."

"You allowed yourself to get hurt because you were bored?" I had sounded unbelieving.

"You're the one that was smiling during the fight."

I had been about to deny it, when I remembered how great it felt.

"Admit it. You enjoyed it."

"Maybe."

Sherlock had just smiled.

"Why were they after you?"

"I gave the principal evidence that they had stolen the answers to their last science test."

"Oh, that makes since."

"Would you like to help me with a case tomorrow?" Sherlock had look at me and had tried to sound casual but I could tell he wanted me to say yes.

"What kind of case?"

"Nothing too difficult, but it will be somewhat dangerous."

I knew that a sane person would say no but well it sounded fun.

"Definitely, but let's get you to the nurse.

When we got the nurse Sherlock had complained the whole time. He even made her cry.

"Not good?" He sounded confused .

"A bit not good yeah."

End of flashback

"Why are you smiling?" Lestrade's voice pulled me back to the present.

"Oh, no reason. I better go back to his room. He is probably driving the nurse crazy by now."

I am still smiling when I walk into his room. Sherlock is seated on the bed and is glaring at a nurse who was in tears.

Sherlock looks up as I walk through the door.

"John, can we go home now?"

"I a moment we can."

Nothing has changed and I wouldn't want it to.


	3. Ideas

Hi everyone. If you have any scenarios that you would like me to write please let me know. I have a few ideas but I could use the input.


	4. Opera

_This chapter is not complete. I'm still working on it. To be honest, I'm not happy with this chapter. Please let me know what you all think and any ideas to make it better. Also let me know if I should keep it or trash it._

"I still cannot believe it." I hear Anderson mutter.

Fourteen hours and eight minutes ago Lestrade had dropped by asked, more like begged, for Sherlock to help with a case. Two male lead singers at the British Opera Theater had been murdered. The first was five days ago and the second just a few hours before Lestrade's visit. All were murdered while singing their final song of the performance.

Letrade had been trying to find someone to go undercover for tonight, but couldn't find someone that wouldn't stick out. When Lestrade told this to Sherlock, he had got that look in his eye. That look usually means that he pulled one over on Mycroft or he was going to do something dangerous, like go undercover.

That is how I find myself seated in the front row of the opera house listening to Sherlock sing a duet of Pearl Fisher. The other man has a clear, deep, voice. He is very good, but nothing compared to Sherlock. Sherlock has a rich, clear, baritone with perfect pitch. He looks almost unearthly standing in a white suite, hair perfectly curled, along with his piercing eyes and cheekbones. Apparently no one at the yard knew that Sherlock could sing. Of course I knew but I remembered being shocked when I first heard him sing.

It was about half a year after we meet. I had been invited over to the Holmes's house to spend the weekend with Sherlock. Mrs. Holmes had been the one to invite me in. She had smiled and told me how glad she was that I could come over.

Mrs. Holmes was surprised the first time Sherlock introduced me. He had asked me to come over after school to help with an experiment, when Sherlock first introduced me as his friend I thought Mrs. Holmes was about to jump up and down with joy.

I had walked into Sherlock's room and was surprised to see Mycroft there. Both brothers had turned around and look relieved that it was only me.

"Oh, Hello John" Sherlock greeted

"Hi, what are you both doing?"

"We are going over our plan to surprise Mother tonight." Mycroft answered

"What for?"

"Today is her birthday, but instead of going out Mother wanted a pleasant night in." Mycroft responded

"Yes, and everything is planed so get out Mycroft." Sherlock demanded

Mycroft had just rolled his eyes before leaving.

After dinner, we all had gone into the music room. Mycroft had started playing the piano and after a few moments Sherlock has started sing. Even then his voice had been deep and rich. At the time I did not know what language he was singing in. I later found out it was French.

I force my thoughts back into the present. There is one more song to go after this and if Sherlock's theory, which he will not tell me about, is correct than the man beside him will be the next victim. Lestrade had tried to talk the man out of performing but the man had insisted that he perform tonight.


End file.
